"And you thought I was bluffing, but I wasn’t. I’d sooner go to gaol—yes, I would—than see you married to my daughter. And why? Because you’re after things." "I want Posy." "I see no margin of profit for Posy if you want her, and nothing else." "Posy wants me." "No, you’re wrong, my lad. Posy wants the man she thinks you to be, not the man you are." He approached Posy, looking her over, appraising her points. "You ain’t a judge of quality yet," he said to her. "This young feller is a fake. Don’t shake your pretty head! He’s not good enough for you, and that’s why I forbid the banns. Your pore mother thinks it’s a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence with me. Well, I know the value of money, because I’ve made it. Money can buy nearly everything and everybody. Money can buy you, Posy." "It can’t." "It can buy you from him." He turned sharply, staring contemptuously at James, appraising him also as the young man stood before him, erect and defiant. "James Miggott——" "Sir?" "You have stolen something which is mine. I’ll buy it back at my own price." "You can’t buy Posy from me?" "Have you settled yet with Mabel Dredge?" "What do you mean, sir?" His voice remained impudently firm, but into his eyes crept a furtive expression. "It seems, my lad, that Mabel Dredge wants you, and you wanted her before Posy came back from school. Took all she had to give, too." "Oh!" exclaimed Posy. Quinney continued scathingly: "You were mean enough to break with her, when my girl appeared, but she didn’t break with you. As a moral millionaire, James Miggott, you’re—bust!" Susan saw James’s face, evidence damning to any woman of intuitions. She cried aloud dolorously: "He stole the roses from her pore cheeks! Oh, the everlasting wickedness of some men!" Quinney smiled derisively. "And, oh! the everlasting foolishness of some women! Mabel Dredge still wants him." James, floundering in quicksands, attempted to lie his way out of them. "It isn’t true." "Pah!" said Quinney. "You’re nicely decorated, and there’s a smooth buttery glaze to you, but your paste is rotten! Now, let’s get to business. Posy and her mother think that I value things more than persons. Here"—he snatched up Hunsaker’s cheque—"is a _thing_ worth eleven hundred pounds. I offer you this, James Miggott, and with it Mabel Dredge, who prefers flashy stuff. You must choose, and choose quick, between Mabel, _plus_ this cheque, and Posy in her go-to-meetin’ clothes, _plus_ her mother, who’s right, by Gum, not to trust her alone with you." Personality can be irresistible. This little man, with all his disabilities, held these three persons spellbound under the magic of his voice and manner. Posy’s bosom was heaving with emotion; Susan stared, open-eyed and open-mouthed, at the lover of Laburnum Row, her Joe, miraculously restored to her. James glared at his master, recognizing him as such, defiant still, but stricken dumb. Quinney chuckled.